


Tender Red

by ZephyrCamida



Series: Color Your Arousal [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: - including slight foot fetish?, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Crossdressing, Fingering, Fixed some structures and added some things to smooth other spots, Insecurities about size, M/M, Oral Sex, Second edition, and Jean loving his plushy boyfriend, and a whole lot of smut, and fluff, chubby!marco, jeanmarco, light mentions of Reibert, light rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrCamida/pseuds/ZephyrCamida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Marco plays with the trail of hairs that dip down between prominent hips, bending down to kiss Jean's navel as shaking fingers work at the buckle of a blazing red belt that matches the sheer satin tickling on his skin, the blush of his ears, the swollen lips of his boyfriend, the heat in his chest. All Marco can see is red, red, tender red."</p><p>In which an insecure Marco tries to break his shackling boundaries and his supportive boyfriend shows him just how much he loves everything about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much my dedication to a group of people on Tumblr who founded the chubby!Marco and Bodty Positivity -- of which I stumbled upon literally last week and had to write this because I relate very much to the feelings Marco has in this fic. To know that there are people who find beauty in bigger people makes me happy and thus...this was born. Enjoy the smut~ <3

 

* * *

 

 

“Nnngh,” Marco huffs, quietly inhaling and blowing out a bubbling raspberry through his lips as he stares with lowered lids at the reflection of the mirror in front of him, lightly tracing a ribbon-laced strap that lay snug on his shoulder with a nervous finger. “I really...don't know how I feel about this.”

 

Taking a step back, the brunette frowns, pulling said strap away from freckled skin and letting it fall back to its home. A subtle, breathy sigh leaves his lips as he twists here and turns there to view the various angles of himself, a stark sense of utter displeasure with the image he watches in the reflection. From a particularly certain side view, it _seems_ like the sheer red negligee flutters appropriately down his back, barely whispering over his rear and the white panties that he wore, but Marco can't help but focus on the light rolls that peek beneath the back fastening. Or the pouch of his belly, the arm flab, hell, even the spattering of freckles on his round nose seems weird right now under the florescent bathroom light. His irises fall then to his fleshy hips, love handles that while less noticeable under lacy trim panties, are as obvious to his eyes as blackened clouds on the horizon.

 

The frown that graces Marco's face deepens in intensity as he steps closer to the mirror again, hands reaching out to cover the places he so scrutinizes, hates at this moment. This whole idea was supposed to make him feel more attractive, more comfortable – confident – in his less than fit skin, but all he can see right now are the glaring flaws beneath the satin and polyester and ivory lace. It's really the comfort zone that Marco hates; he'd spent years in his adolescence getting used to, accepting,  _liking_ his body, and really he still holds that mindset. He has friends who love him as he is, family who couldn't be more accepting, and now for the last amazing six months, Jean... 

 

Jean, Jean, Jean hotter-than-all-hell Kirschstein.

 

Thinking about now, he supposes that's where the confliction started. It's not Jean either, no. It's...well, he's more the trigger and Marco heard the loud bang go off when the then-best-friend blond had asked him out. Harboring feelings for his then college roommate for many, _many_ months prior, that love becoming mutual, a reality - and it took a while for even that to sink in, the craziness of it all - really brought the best, and worst of himself out into the open. Marco, in the beginning, figured it was a matter of growing accustomed to allowing someone else to love all that he had to learn to love himself. It was one thing to see yourself naked - exposed - but to let someone else...it's not something even Marco could immediately accept. Not even if it was the closest non-family he had, his _best_ friend, a man who could care less whether he had pudgy hips, or 'thunder thighs' as Marco called them, or a button round nose. 

  
Way back when, this realization was an abrupt eye opener, and now here he stands, dressed in frills and lace, making those old, nostalgic faces of uneasiness and displeasure. Stupid emotions. He scrunches his nose, brows heavily furrowing before he lets his arms drop to his sides.

   
“Who's idea was this anyway?” he mutters with a heavy heart, eyes glancing one last time before turning away from himself completely and lightly padding into the bedroom, sitting with a light grunt on the bed. He swipes a hand over his cheek, palm landing limply in his lap, eyes following the round curve of his inner thighs until they touch together near his groin. He taps his knees together harshly before snatching a stray pillow and slapping it over his legs. A second – maybe third at this point – round of frustration settles in quickly and Marco lets himself fall back onto the plush bed spread.

 

He bites his lip in remembrance,”Ah, right, Connie and Bertholdt. _Right_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Do something sexy?” his loud, short friend yapped as he shoved a french fry between his teeth. “Have you tried toys? You know-”_

 

“ _No! No, no.” Marco stumbled over his reply brilliantly, turning a stellar red. “I don't...uh.”_

 

“ _Connie, stop being so loud. We're in a restaurant for crying out loud,” Marco's other companion, Bertholdt, scolded with a frown, pulling the plate of french fries away before giving Marco a gentle smile. “Did you have anything in mind? Everyone has different tastes...what does Jean like?”_

 

“ _I...um, I don't know really,” Marco scratched his fringe. “We don't really talk much about that kind of thing. I'm a...under the blankets guy...for obvious reasons...” Bertholdt gave him a soft look from his right, nudging his leg against Marco's gently in reprimand. Marco glanced down at his half-full plate, eyes low._

 

_Connie flexed his fingers over the table, glaring at the tall brunette that denied him of his food, “Bert, you brat, gimme back my fries! Ah!” He clawed at the plate, puffing his cheeks. “Look, Marco, maybe Jean doesn't bring that shit up because he knows you're uncomfortable about that. Y'all only started screwing around recently, yeah? What...couple months? More?”_

 

“ _Oh my god,” Marco buried his burning face in his hands, curling into the table in embarrassment. Bertholdt, on the other hand, slapped the table surface, a threatening look on his face._

 

“ _One more inappropriate comment like that and your potatoes are on the floor,” he warned, pointing an extended finger over the edge of the table before slowly passing the plate back, then rubbed his large hand over the flustered brunette's back. Connie promptly clamped his trap shut and chewed on a fry. He knew Bertholdt would make due on that promise._

 

_After a moment of silence and less than subtle glares across the table, Bertholdt continued, “Marco, I'm sure Jean already finds you plenty attractive. He's not the type to spend his time with people he doesn't like, ya know? **Especially** when it comes to dating.” _

 

_Marco nodded into his crossed arms, and peeked up from his hiding spot, eying Bertholdt with one dark eye, “I know that. I definitely know that, but, I guess I just wanted to surprise him...impress him, maybe? I feel like I'm going to bore him quickly otherwise.”_

 

“ _With how much he won't shut up about you, I highly doubt that.”_

 

“ _Connie-”_

 

“ _What?! That was a compliment! Jean never shuts his fuckin' mouth about Freckles here. Ever. Even back when they were only roomies, like shit – 'Oh, you should have seen him ace that song on Rock Band, fuckin' awesome. Oh, look at how he chews on the end of his pen when he concentrates in psychology class...Oh look how cute he is when he mixes fucking_ **pancake batter** _!' – I fuckin' swear, that guy has it bad,” Connie shoveled a handful of remaining fries into his mouth and pushed the empty plate to the end of their table, giving a tiny stare of triumph towards his potato-stealing friend. “Look, dude, why don't we think outside the box a little here. Ever think of..._ wearing _something sexy to impress?”_

 

“ _Wear...? Like, cosplay?”_

 

_Connie cackled loudly before crouching close to the table, catching Marco's hidden gaze, “Dude, no. I mean, if that's your thing, whatever, but I'm talkin' sexy shit like lingerie here. Lacy bra, lacy underwear – or leather if you're kinky...or one of those little fluffy nightgown things with the puffy balls. Stuff like that.”_

 

“ _U..uhm?”_

 

“ _What?! That shits sexy as fuck, dude. Jean would flip!”_

 

“ _Isn't that more for...women?”_

 

“ _Actually...it can be quite the turn on for men too.” Marco and Connie shifted their gaze to Bertholdt, who sat straight-faced and matter-of-fact._

 

“ _If there was one thing I wasn't expecting to come out of your mouth, it was that, dude.” Connie stared wide-eyed at the six foot three adult. “I mean...really? Reiner likes that shit?”_

 

“ _Well, I like it,” came the simple reply and Marco could almost see Connie's jaw hit the table._

 

“ _Wait, wait wait -wait- you're telling me that Reiner wears– ”_

 

“ _Regardless,” Marco interrupted quickly. “I highly doubt that any of that would ever look even remotely good on someone like me –“_

 

“ _No, no, no. Hold on a fucking minute! You are telling me that my bro wears fluffy lingerie for you, Bertholdt???” Connie's mouth reminded Marco vaguely of a fish fighting for air. Marco's brown gaze turned to his taller companion, who sat calmly with hands folded over each other, replying as if he's regarding the weather._

 

“ _Why would this surprise you at all? You were the one who suggested it to Marco in the first place, and last I checked, we're talking about **Marco** here,” Bertholdt shrugged and turned towards Marco, ignoring Connie's shocked babbling and eventual mental shutdown completely, resuming his comforting back rub. “Marco, sweetheart, there are many, many things that can be considered attractive or sexy to your lover, but confidence is probably the biggest turn on. Jean obviously loves you; I think he'd appreciate and be okay with anything you wanted to try with him, yeah?”_

 

_Marco stared quietly at the salt shaker several inches away, then moments later, nodded meekly._

 

“ _Well, why not give it a try then? The negligee thing – I know a good place.”_  


* * *

Staring at the ceiling, Marco pulls the curtain like red fabric of his top up into view. His eyes shift from the silky material to his extended arm – the pudge of his bicep – and drops it immediately, groaning to himself. He knows that all of this is in his head – Jean never once said that he didn't like Marco's body, but the freckled man simply can't shake the nervousness, the dark feelings. This kind of thing was for pretty women, or he supposed in Reiner's case, bodily _fit_ men.

 

Not men with love handles and thick thighs and a pudgy tummy.

 

_Damnit, Marco._

 

Suddenly, Marco slaps his hands on his face one – two – three times, forcing the negative thoughts from his brain. He _knows_ better than to belittle himself; It will get him nowhere, and if Jean caught wind of Marco's self-depreciation, he'd give him a mouthful. Jean was very adamant over Marco's figure – always saying he liked it, among the many other non-bodily features that encompassed and made up Marco Bodt. His lips turn upwards at the thought, eyes partially closing as he lifts himself from the bed.

 

“Confidence. _Confidence,_ Marco,” he whispers to himself, repeating Bertholdt's advice as he takes a step towards the bathroom. He was going to march his butt back in front of that mirror and see the positives. And then when Jean comes home from –

 

“Marco?”

 

“Oh my god!” Marco stumbles gracelessly as the knob of the bedroom door clicks open and before he can even process much more than absolute panic, he throws himself to the carpet, hidden between the king size bed and the wall just as his boyfriend walks in from the opposite side of the room.

 

Amber eyes glance at the state of the room – clothing tags clipped and in a pile on the dresser, pillow on the floor and blanket dragged halfway off the bed to where Marco sits awkwardly, head peeking from just over the mattress.

 

“H-hey!”

 

_Smooth._

 

“Babe, what are you doing? You okay?” Jean takes a long step, eyes concerned and a little confused, but halts when Marco whips his arm over the bed, palm open to stop him.

 

“Ahaha, I'm fine, you just startled me.” Marco shifts his eyes from Jean to the bathroom, then back again, smiling awkwardly. Of all days for him to get home early from work; what is he going to do now? He isn't mentally prepared yet, right? Right, not a chance. Surely he will botch it up at this point! Crap, crap, _crap_. “U-um, I was just getting changed a-and uh...could you?”

 

“I've seen you in your underwear plenty of times,” Jean frowns, but inches back to the doorway anyway, raising a brow. “You _know_ that I'm okay with –“

 

“I-I know. I'm just...trying on some new clothes and I might have bought the wrong size. Embarrassing, right? S-so, um –“ Marco isn't making any sense, he realizes, and he knows Jean is probably thinking the same thing judging by how he leans against the wood of the door's border and crosses his arms.

 

His boyfriend's eyes narrow a bit, and Marco unconsciously tugs the blanket further down off the bed, trying desperately not to look flustered. Failing, but trying.

 

Finally, Jean lets out a heavy sigh, “Alright, babe, don't take too long. Dinner'll be ready soon.” Marco nods quickly and stays in place until Jean exits, shutting the door behind him and leaving Marco in silence. Slowly, he lifts himself from his hiding spot, eyes never leaving the door. Immediately, a feeling of guilt settles in Marco's gut. Jean was obviously concerned and here he is being too much a chicken to just come out and tell him that he bought... _this._ He gazes down at himself, the red satin and white lace, and rubs his neck.

 

What really was there to be afraid of? Jean laughing at him? Being turned off? Disgusted? If this was the case, Marco surmises, he's really insulting Jean's character. He would never do that to him, Marco definitely knows this; it's plain ridiculous to even entertain the idea. Jean, all accepting Jean who once jumped a guy twice his size in outrage when they mocked Marco's freckles. Jean who sat and ate an entire large carton of strawberry ice cream with him from start to finish the evening of Marco's grandma's funeral, no questions asked, no judgements passed. Jean who loved hugging Marco tight in the morning, and kissing him before bed, and pinching his butt right after he puts on coffee. Jean who held and caressed Marco as he cried from the alarming pain of their first time, pulling the comforter over them even when it was dark and whispering to him, making him slowly grow accustomed to the intrusion by making light-hearted jokes that they were in their own personal blanket fort and gently nibbling his ticklish spots until the pain floated away and they could finally make love to one another. Jean who takes every single bout of insecurity Marco has from time to time seriously and walks with him through the process of reassurance, brushing his knuckles lovingly in support. 

  
That Jean?

 

"Yes," Marco speaks aloud, grounding himself, his heart. “Remember what you are doing this for - who you are doing this for. This is for you, and for him. Breath...breath...”

 

A few stabilizing deep breaths later, Marco steps away from the bed, looking with solid brown eyes to the bathroom, then over to the bed and discarded blanket. Several thoughts cross his mind. He _could_ go back into the bathroom, stare at himself in this small little thing, cross the final threshold and find the nerve to do what he is about to do.

 

Or...

 

Marco slides the sole of his foot across the carpet, fidgeting where he stands. Or he could not. He doesn't need to pluck and pick out every spot that looks off in this state of dress. He isn't trying to look like a super model, nor is he trying to hide what he is. Who he is. Marco simply wants to look sexy, try something that pulls him from that locked box of comfort - small and confined. If his heart is there in the battle, then he's already won, right?

 

If he was going to do this – hell or high water – he needed to find the courage... _now._

 

He lets out a little shudder, the cool air from the air conditioning kicking in leaves little goose pimples over his exposed flesh. It's already been at least ten minutes since Jean's left him to his chaotic thoughts. He'll come looking pretty soon, the lovely dinner he prepared – as Jean is a talent for sure in the kitchen – more than likely ready. Marco stares at the blanket again, and suddenly a thought comes to mind.

 

If he can't quite work up the nerve to show off this wardrobe in a flashy tease, then maybe...

 

Marco swallows deeply, fingers twitching from the tiny remnants of nervousness, and approaches the bed once again.

 

Not two minutes later, Jean is knocking on the door with a light rap before letting himself into their bedroom. The sound of the door clicking makes Marco's heart pound in his chest, but he refuses to move from where he sits crouched in the middle of their bed. His legs are tucked under him, thighs slightly stinging from the stretch and his body is much warmer than moments ago – and not from the blanket covering him like a veil from head to toe. Now or never, and it is going to be now. 

 

When the bed dips, Marco tightens his grip on the blanket, holding it as a security as his boyfriend crawls towards him from behind.

 

_You can do this. You can do this. Just breath, Marco. You got this._

 

“Marco...” Jean's low voice comes from just behind Marco's left ear as a firm hand braces along his back, stroking slowly, gently over his shoulder. “Babe, are you okay?”

 

He remains silent, peering down into his lap. The moment is here and Marco can not for the life of him stop the hammering in his chest, or the beginnings of a deep flush along his cheeks and neck. He feels so warm, so nervous, yet he wants to do this. He _has_ to do this.

 

“Yes, I'm okay,” he murmurs with a small croak, and clears his throat before continuing with a stutter. “T-the clothes ended up fitting.”

 

“Yeah? That's great, babe,” Marco hears – it pretty much radiates, it's so apparent _–_ the utter happiness in his boyfriend's voice, can feel Jean shifting behind him, leaning heavily against his shoulder and kissing his temple before sitting back on his haunches, adding, “Then... why are you hiding under the blanket?”

 

_Breath. You can do this._

 

“U..um...”

 

Marco's face burns hot, he knows that Jean sees his reddening ears and can't help but shrink a little into himself. So maybe his jitters are a little too strong and the heat is getting the better of him, the sound of Jean's breathing _right next to his ear_ is driving him a little tipsy with anticipation – or is it worry, lingering in the back of his frenzied mind? His hands clamp together in his lap, and they jolt as Jean's fingertips brush feather-like over his forehead and fold the edge of the blanket between his index and middle, sliding the covering slowly down from Marco's hidden body until it falls limply around his curled feet.

 

It's now, it's now, it's  _now._

 

“Marco... _ohh._ ”

 

Marco is now totally exposed and the silence is so thick – glaring and _there –_ that he can hear the ringing in his ears, body tense as his boyfriend's stare surely roams his entire body. Amber coloring over the freckled, pale cream of Marco's skin; he imagines those warm eyes wander from his almost bare shoulders, the red ribbon straps down to the chiffon red fabric that was the fluttery negligee that ended with a frilly lining of the same red silk ribbon that sat upon his trembling collar.

 

Even with wearing the gown, the damned white lace and red trimmed panties, and the red garter belt around his left thigh – dear god why did he put that on too, is he asking for more embarrassment?! – Marco has never felt more naked before. A vulnerability that Marco easily hides with darkened lighting and covered blankets any other time. But this time, he's out there; this time, he's letting himself be seen and this scares Marco more than he wants to admit.

 

He starts again as the AC kicks in for the second time, washing the room with both a subtle coolness and the hum of the appliance fan pouring it in, breaking the pregnant silence. He doesn't want to turn around – can't bear to – too afraid of the reaction, or lack of in this instance. His thoughts start to run wild, piecing together idea after idea for why his boyfriend is now unresponsive.

 

_He's not saying anything. Oh god, what should I do?? Where is that blanket? I knew this was a bad idea, why did I even think – Calm down. Calm do–_

 

“ _Hhhaa_ ,” the moan bubbles out uncontrollably as Jean's lips press lush over the junction between Marco's collar and jaw, nipping it gently as one flattened palm travels down his bare arm and settles on Marco's fleshy thigh, squeezing it.

 

“Marco,” the one word vibrates against hot skin, the index finger of Jean's unoccupied hand tracing a ghost light line down the back of the negligee, nail scraping every so often on Marco's back and sending shivers up his spine. Jean's lips mouth briefly at the shell of his ear, tongue flicking, breath silky, “ _Look at you_.”

 

Marco can't help but shake, the entirety of his body shifting into overdrive, alarms blaring in his mind and senses on fire as his boyfriend murmurs sensually in his ear and before he can even choke out a reply, Jean's hand is caressing from his back around to his chest, pinching a nipple playfully between two fingers over the thin fabric. The sensation electrifying, a sharp gasp escapes Marco, and his body tips like it's made of melting snow, head tilting back over Jean's shoulder.

It's startling how quickly he's turned on from the touches, leg shaking as nails rake over the wide span of his thigh, tracing invisible lines from freckle to freckle in an erratic pattern and a sharper pinch on his stiffened pink nipple has him reeling back and forth – groin sensitive and prickling with arousal.

 

The mutual ministrations of fingers touching him, scratching light over the hardened tip and other hand massaging long strokes along his decorated thigh only urges more gasps and the occasional hum of pleasure from Marco's throat. He lets out a long, heavy pant to try to calm himself, his heart – mind, body, everything – quickly losing control. Jean seems to be having none of that – hell, his own body seems to want none of that either – jolts of pleasure straight to Marco's cock as his boyfriend's fiery mouth grazes Marco's now exposed throat, lean and flexible body curling around him. His teeth scrape over Marco's Adam's apple, tongue plush against the skin as lips envelope a small patch of skin between them and suck,  Jean groaning encouragingly in response to Marco's little mewls.

 

“Hnn, _babe_ , you're so hard,” the lathering remark breathes over his jugular. The stroke of Jean's hand running from his thigh to fleshy hip down to the soft skin of his inner leg, fingers teasing the seam of white lace panties leave Marco taut and shivering. “ – and _wet._ ” His fingers slide teasingly under the panties, lifting the fabric to reveal a very stiff and leaking cock, twitching from the brush of attention. Jean touches the trail of precome that drip from the tip, teasing the red-hued head with a circular stroke of two fingers.

 

“Hah, hnn, _Jean_ ,” Marco pants harshly, back bumping against Jean's chest, rocking into him. He can hear the slight humming chuckle against his neck as feathery kisses trail back up the curve of his throat, over his chin and Marco immediately sighs compliantly as Jean _finally_ kisses him hard, teeth biting at his lips until he opens them – allowing Jean full access. Tongue fiery, urgent, intrusive – Marco can only let himself drown in Jean's licks, needy bites, and passionate kisses – barely containing the whimpers as his boyfriend's large hand teasingly palms his cock under the lace underwear.

 

Seconds pile upon themselves, minutes passing – or has it, it feels like forever to Marco and his feverish nerves so who can really tell? – and before he knows it, Jean's hands are on his fleshy hips, nose nudging his jaw as he guides Marco to lay flat on the bed. This gives him the chance to calm his panting, his breathing harsh enough that he inhales air like he has just emerged from deep water. His sigh is shaky, like a stunted whisper as Jean mouths his way down Marco's body, lapping at skin, kissing the soft mounds of flesh over his ribs and down his stomach. When his hazy eyes finally open, Marco realizes that his boyfriend is sitting much further down, kneeling at his feet and watching him with molten amber irises.

 

“J-Jean...” Marco breathes quietly, slowly falling back to earth, and watching with a craned head as Jean lifts one of his feet, cradling the heel in his palm and leaning down until his lips meet his freckled ankle.

 

“You smell so good,” comes the deep lilt, a wet kiss pressing to the protruding bone. Then the ball of his foot, then the big toe. “You must have bathed right before putting this on, hmm?” His voice is so silky, velvet upon Marco's bristling skin, instilling arousal from head to toe. Jean huffs a warm, moist breath against his toes before taking one slowly into his mouth, tongue padding and sliding against the sensitive flesh as he sucks lightly. Marco's eyes immediately clench shut again, groan guttural and deep as he tries to process what his boyfriend is doing to him. Jean's hands start to travel back up – brushing his ankles, fingering his calves, stroking his thighs, teasing his groin with whispering fingertips – and it's leaving Marco a puddle of impassioned red and desire and _need._

 

“J... _Ahhhhn –“_ his voice won't even articulate Jean's name anymore, voice dragging into a drawn out moan. He can feel the panties partially covering his twitching cock soak through, the darkened patch of wetness pooling at the center only spreading as Jean's mouth follows his hands' path back up a leg, open-mouthed kisses leaving a trail of electricity in their wake.

 

It takes mere moments before Jean is nestled between Marco's legs, shoulders tucking gently under his thick thighs and face hovering just over his balls. Marco fails to still his quivering legs, body charged and waiting in jumpy anticipation for the lover below to touch him again. Marco was very, very correct in remembering just how much Jean loves him, accepts him, _wants him_  – Jean is practically panting between his legs, irises mere slivers and pupils blown wide with arousal.

 

Finally, Jean's mouth moves again, dragging loosely over the patch of darker skin that is the inner skin of his thigh, hot murmurs adding to the sensation, “Do you know how much I love your legs, Marco?” A bite on the trembling flesh. “You're so soft, especially the insides of your legs, your ankles, behind your knees, all of it. I love touching you; the you that turns so red when I lather you in _much_ deserved affection... You're so beautiful.”

 

Marco feels the heat in his cheeks at the blond's words, and has to pinch his lip between teeth to keep a whine from escaping his lips when Jean blows a cool breeze of air over his cock, tongue peeking out to tap the moist, fabric-covered skin.

 

“You're dripping wet, babe,” he muses with a devilish grin, hands scooping under Marco's ass and palming them with intent as he dips down, down, down until his lips are level with his barely guarded entrance, tongue slipping out to lick his lips. It almost seems like Jean is about to say more; Marco's eyes blink hazily as he waits, breathing short spurts. Then, there is a pressing heat over his twitching hole, long and so, so slow – tracing over the lace, up over his balls and along the length of his shaft until it stops at the peeking tip of Marco's flushed cock.

 

Another heavy moan vibrates from his throat as Jean folds his – wet and _very fucking talented_ – muscle under the seam of Marco's panties, finally making direct contact with the weeping head. He keens within a second, back twisting at the sharp sensation and toes curling almost painfully into the sheets beneath him. Jean's fingers pull the undergarment down, _just_ far enough to free his straining erection – tense instantly as the air hits it, thick and red and leaking –

 

“ _Ahhh!”_ Marco cries out, practically a sob as Jean's mouth closes over the tip of his cock and takes the engorged organ down as far as his mouth can immediately handle, tongue dragging wet and slick along the underside and cheeks hollowing as he sucks hard. “Oh god, Jean, _oh_ _god._ ”

 

His brown eyes pop open, wide and wild and frantic as he fists the sheets, trying his damnedest to not buck up into his boyfriend's mouth. He doesn't register anything after a while, his nerves jerking and a fluid mix of loud moans and Jean's name spilling haphardly from his lips  – the vague visual of Jean's head bobbing up and down over his cock, slow and torturous, driving him into a tizzy. One particularly hard motion makes Marco jump up, feeling the tip of his cock touch the back of Jean's warm throat, and he has to curl up into himself to keep from repeating the action. Marco sends a panicked glance down to his stilled boyfriend, scared that he hurt him but realizes quickly that he's not even looking at Marco's face.

 

Jean is staring at Marco's hands, which currently covered his soft stomach. It's a natural reaction – one that Marco knows he tends to do when he is nervous about the pouch of his tummy – and he finds that he can't urge them away now that Jean is _right there_. Marco's brown eyes lower nervously, guiltily, fingers playing with each other over his belly. He should move them – but there they stay, stubborn digits digging into the flesh. But seconds later, Jean's hands reach up and clamp on his wrists, gently, but firmly dragging his arms away and pinning them to the bed.

 

His darkened amber eyes narrow, heated stare intoxicating and penetrating, “Don't hide; I want to see all of you.”

 

Marco blinks slowly, nodding drunkenly with quivering lips as he watches – eyes locked with the blond below – Jean slowly take his cock into his mouth again, moaning as pink lips lower and wet warmth encase him in sparking pleasure. His eyes lay frozen on his lover, hands balled up at his sides, mouth hanging open and panting as Jean sucks fast and hard, head twisting as he descends down until his nose is buried in dark curls. His tongue unrelenting as it passes over the head, swirling and sucking until Marco is a crying mess above him.

 

“J-Jean! I'm...I'm gonna –“

 

Nerves on fire and fingers in near pain from clutching the bedspread so hard, Marco tosses his head back, loud gasp spewing from his mouth as if the wind has been knocked from his lungs when he finally crashes over his breaking point, intense spasms rocking him as he comes. Snaps of bright white spots cloud his vision and he doesn't realize until after he's completely spent himself within Jean's mouth that his wrists aren't being restrained anymore – his lover's hands rubbing soothingly over his hips and thighs. Marco's eyes open slowly as he is yanked down from his euphoric high, breathing calmer and releasing air in rhythmic chains as his vision and dizzy senses feel Jean crawling up over him, a half-lidded gaze and a lazy smile gracing his flushed face. It hits him moments later that Jean had swallowed,  _swallowed,_ and this little fact makes him shudder beneath his boyfriend.

 

At this point, Marco can't even tell up from down, arms automatically jumping to life and wrapping around Jean's strong back, lifting himself to mold flush against his chest and press needy kisses to wherever his mouth could claim purchase. Marco's fingers rake through the dark blonde locks, trace the sharp dip of Jean's strong, flexed back, one shaking leg curving up tight around his hip and sighs, breathes in everything that is this loving person holding him. 

 

Jean's hands grab at his waist, holding him tight, groaning heavily as he lets Marco delve into his mouth, teeth and tongue and spit as he presses against him. Marco notes the taste of himself in his boyfriend's mouth, and finds himself not caring in the least as he suckles on the pink muscle. He's tugging at Jean's muscle shirt, nails scratching at his vast shoulder blades and hears a small, amused huff, Jean letting his riled up boyfriend flip him down onto the mattress, twisting him in the blankets beneath them and looking up into brown eyes – dilate and radiating desire.

 

Marco doesn't quite know what has come over him, only that he wants to touch, touch, _touch_ this man under him. Maybe it's because he's drunk on lust at this point, greedy and wanting everything that the blond will allow him to take, to give. Or maybe it's simply because even as he's arched over Jean, hands bracketed on either side of his face, lips nipping possessively at his tanned skin, Jean is touching him, murmuring husky things into his ears. He can hear 'beautiful' and 'god, you're so amazing' and 'keep going, babe' and it makes him feel tingly all over. Hands touching imperfect places in ways that make him feel loved, alive, worshiped even – as if every nook and cranny on his body is absolutely gorgeous and worth absolute praise, giving him empowerment and encouragement that he sometimes – many more times than Marco wants to admit – can't quite give himself. It reminds him of the days that he's okay with his body, breathing confidence and happiness over the blessings he has in his life instead of the set backs.

 

Reminds him that he's safe and accepted in these arms, and attractive to his amber eyes. 

 

Marco leans down further – sighing as Jean strokes along his supple biceps - nuzzles his jaw, and murmurs hotly in the blond's ear, “I want to make you feel good; what can I do to make you feel good?”

 

“ _Mmm,_ I already feel so good, Marco,” his voice almost sounds like music in Marco's ears, giving him shivers, rendering him still for a moment as Jean's breathing in his ear, teething the lobe. “ _You_ make me feel good.”

 

He's then tugging Jean up, hands spread apart and groping at his lean muscles, down his abs that flex as he rises into a sitting position against the pillows at the head of the bed, quickly removing his shirt soon after. Marco plays with the trail of hairs that dip down between prominent hips, bending down to kiss Jean's navel as shaking fingers work at the buckle of a blazing red belt that matches the sheer satin tickling on his skin, the blush of his ears, the swollen lips of his boyfriend, the heat in his chest. All Marco can see is red, red, tender red.

 

Marco can feel Jean leaning over the edge of the bed as he's pulling down the zipper of the navy denim pants, revealing the patch of black boxer briefs and a very obvious erection pushing at the fabric. Moments later, the blond is back with him, setting items at his side and shifting just a bit more so his legs are spread for him and Jean's arching slightly over him, watching as Marco's pulling the stiff cock from the opening in his underwear.

 

For a second, Marco pauses, staring at the thick cock in his hands, heartbeat beating hard and dancing to a wild rhythm in his chest. His knees are quaking below him, digging into the mattress as he leans over Jean's groin, and he mimics what his lover did to him previously – blowing a cool breath over the throbbing head. His own cock twitches in tandem with Jean's, already standing at attention again and pressing against the snug lace around it. As Marco dips down, legs clenched together to hold his arousal at bay and ass in the air, he can hear the low hum come from Jean's lips, a sound of utter approval. He can't help but feel vulnerable in this position, not used to putting himself in such exposed situations, but at this point he feels amazing – feels like he could do anything now, dopamine and adrenaline running rampant through his body and fueling him, Jean's words echoing in his ears.

 

And judging by the slightest whine coming from his boyfriend as he stretches down, lace panties pulling tight over his ass, back curving in as he cranes his head down, down, down and his lips are puckered at the tip of Jean's cock, Marco's driving him just as crazy as he feels. Marco braces a hand deep between sharp thighs, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin below Jean's sac, and uses the other to hold the rock hard member taut – lips spreading tight as he takes him.

 

Jean hisses, thighs tightening as Marco licks and mouths his cock, hands reaching forward and stroking along Marco's shoulders, the tender skin of his back – gentle yet needy fingers folding over the subtle rolls that peek from the fastening strap of the negligee, making Marco wheeze and whine around the erect member in his mouth. Beads of saliva pool at the corners of Marco's mouth as he licks wet trails around the base, teasing the skin between shaft and balls, and nearly squeaks when Jean squeezes the soft fleshy hills around his hips, his chest brushing over Marco's head as he leans to search south. 

 

Feeling daring, Marco lifts his head, using the hand gripping Jean to stroke him in steady, but slow pumps and darts his tongue out to the pectoral right in front of him – nipple pulled aggressively into his mouth. Lavishing the dark bud between tongue and teeth, he hears Jean breath out ragged, moan long and low and velvety. Marco feels courageous, feels like he's making his lover feel _so good,_ that he's doing everything in his ability to make Jean experience that same pleasure – same love and want and absolute desire that he shows Marco every day. His balancing hand is now fondling Jean, fingers smooth and moving in rhythm with his fisted hand – dipping over his balls, pressing the perinium, scratching his muscular, _sexy as fuck_ thighs.

 

“ _Hahhh –“_ Jean is frozen over him, body shuddering and heels digging into the bed as he twitches from all the intense attention. “ _Marco...babe...hnn...”_

 

Marco allows the swollen nipple between his lips free with a small pop and kisses his way quickly back down to the dribbling cock, licking the oozing trail of come up before swallowing it to the hilt in one smooth motion. He shimmies his rear a bit when a hand palms his ass, eyes blinking shut as fingers sneak under the panties and teasingly move along puckered pink flesh. Marco sighs as those same fingers stroke over his hole delicately, tips pressing just inside and spreading him apart.

 

When Jean's hands abruptly pull away, Marco is almost surprised by how loud his whine of disapproval is, wanting Jean's touch back on his body – anywhere, _everywhere –_ so badly. He feels tingles, throbbing all over and his ears ringing, heart singing so loud that he nearly misses the groan and low pant from above him as Marco keeps up his vigorous devouring of his boyfriend's cock – and also nearly doesn't hear the sound of a bottle cap clicking.

 

Oh, but he hears it, and almost to egg Jean on, Marco hums hard around the shaft in his mouth, under his tongue, sending as harsh of vibrations through the throbbing skin as he can muster – moaning as if he was already being fucked hard and was enjoying every second of it. Jean shudders, pausing whatever it is he's doing – Marco can't tell when his nose is buried in flaxen curls and eyes are barely peeking through thick lashes – but soon the brunette can feel those desired hands on him again, sliding lace down his ass as wet, cool fingers are at his entrance again.

 

The first push makes Marco halt completely, mewling and gasping at the stretch of his ass, a single digit sinking into him slowly, steadily until it's knuckle deep. Jean gives a testing wiggle, curling the finger up in a come hither movement, and Marco's head drops into the blond's lap, lips murmuring incoherent nothings and struggling to keep his legs from wobbling at the screaming pleasure because oh _god_ it feels so good.

 

By the time Marco can even force himself to move again – instead of just staring in a lusty daze at the mattress below his shivering body – Jean is sliding a second finger in to join turning him inside out, thrusting gently, smoothly with the now warm lubricant. He lifts himself back up, bracing his knees spread wide and sinking deep into the bedding and takes a tentative lick on Jean's cock, glancing up to catch his expression. Marco – eyes locked on his boyfriend's flushed face, his slightly open mouth and breathing low as he pumps his fingers – surrounds the neglected member with a tight mouth, tongue lavishing the head before resuming his strong slurps and sucking.

 

The abrupt moan above him has Marco grinning as he takes Jean all the way to the hilt, fingers scraping the insides of his thighs and nuzzles his head upward when he feels a strong hand raking through his short hair and massaging his scalp.

 

A guttural groan, “ _Babe_ , I'm gonna come if you keep that up...” the digits fingering open Marco's hole pause, Jean's body shaking and bending down and hand pulling at Marco's hair in desperate tugs that would probably hurt if his body wasn't as sizzling – burning in pleasure as it currently is. He knows Jean's trying really hard not to ram up into his throat by the way he shifts, hand moving from his scalp to his back, rubbing circles around Marco's nape – legs opening just a bit more.

 

Marco loves seeing Jean this messed up, and he almost wants to be a little devious, make him come hard and color his mouth with profanities because he knows they're at the tip of Jean's tongue, explicit words and threats of what he wants to do to him.

 

It makes Marco feel sexy, the fact that Jean can't stop touching him like he is now, groaning and groping his ass, his hips, thighs and _oh god_ his fingers are moving again. The brunette doesn't know how much more he can take, his prostate being hit with every pump now as if Jean is declaring war to see who can make the other unravel completely. His fingers are at three in his ass now, angle making their entry awkward, but effective enough that Marco is mewling around Jean's cock and bucking his hips out at the electric jolts he gets with every thrust. His mouthy slurps are becoming sloppy and he's barely moving anymore at this point – probably to Jean's benefit from his previous statement – but Marco can still hear the blond moaning; Marco's own noises simply being the fuel, along with him practically fucking himself on Jean's fingers.

 

A few more seconds pass, “Marco...” Jean's hands are gone again, one dropping to cradle his face and lifting it to gaze into the incredibly dark amber above him. “I need to fuck you, _now._ ”

 

Ah, there it is.

 

Marco licks the small dribble of spit from the side of his mouth and bites a lip, nodding as he crawls forward – arms wrapping around Jean's neck and pressing a nibbling kiss to his lips. He then takes the chance to pull Jean's pants and underwear down, careful to avoid tucking the swollen erection with them.

 

Marco sits back on his haunches, stretching his jaw a moment before fidgeting with his lacy underwear while Jean sheathes himself carefully with the condom that lay by the pillows and bottle of lube. Jean's gaze catches what Marco is doing – watching his thumbs pluck underneath the seam line and tugging the white material down his fleshy thighs – and abandons his task of slicking his cock with lubricant to stop him dead.

 

Jean slips the panties back up, thumbing Marco's handles as he secures the waistband over them, “Keep them on, babe? They look so fucking sexy...” He paws at Marco's covered member for emphasis, tongue darting out between red lips. The brunette blushes hard, lashes low as he stares down at how hard Jean's cock is, how taut his body is from prolonged denial of orgasm, and gives a small, shy nod. Jean graces him with a warm, low-lidded smile and runs his hands up Marco's stomach, up to tip his chin up and press a kiss to his jaw. “You're so beautiful, babe.”

 

He tries to lead Marco to the bed, gentle and pleading and soft, but Marco freezes in place, hands on Jean's shoulders and instead crawls forward, inching until he's settled in his boyfriend's lap and is pushing him to lay down on the pillows behind him.

 

Jean's eyes are hesitant, questioning, “Are you...sure?”

 

Marco doesn't say a word, simply grabs the bottle of lubricant nearby and coats Jean's cock generously with the clear substance, eyes focused and tempered with desire. He looks up once his work is done, nudging forward so their cocks brush against one another, only separated by the lacy material of Marco's panties.

 

Finally, “ _Mmm_ , yes.” Marco leans back, locking his hands on both of Jean's thighs, gripping them desperately and laying the blond with a racy, inviting look. “ _Please~_ ”

 

The sound of Jean's voice hitching makes Marco want to jump him, but he waits – sighs and waits.

 

Jean shivers below him, stricken with depravity and reaches for Marco blindly, lip between teeth as he places his thumb within Marco's thighs, dragging the panties to the side easily and using his free hand to guide his throbbing cock to Marco's ass. The first contact makes them both moan, head pressing hard against the puckered hole, pervading in a slow, agonizing crawl. As Jean gradually fills him, Marco tosses his head back, chin tilted high in the air and mouth open in a drastically wide O – an even louder moan crawling from his open throat. He's rocking down, wanting to Jean to be buried in him faster – _right fucking now–_ and squeezes his thighs tight around Jean's hips as he pushes down against him.

 

Marco feels like he's letting go too quickly, grinding with reckless abandon, but can't bring himself to care as he feels his lover's sharp hips _finally_ tap him – his cock filling him to the last millimeter of girth. He rolls his head sideways, resting his cheek on his shoulder as he gazes down towards Jean, panting softly – fingers groping flesh.

 

It is then, when he sees Jean just watching him – staring at his curvy body – that Marco fully realizes this this is it, he's now at his most open, most revealing. Normally, when they had sex, it was under dimmed lights, hidden by blankets or less revealing angles. This...this was in the light, in the open, true exposure and for a split second, Marco shivers in the faintest twinges of nervousness, feels like Jean can really see everything that he is without something to hide behind.

 

Maybe, Marco surmises, maybe he's a little afraid still, that maybe he was too bold and –

 

“ _Fuck_ , Marco,” Jean reaches for his hips, fingers caressing the soft, plush area with urgency as he thrusts up into him. “Fuck, _ah_ , you're so fucking amazing.”

 

“H-hah!” the darkening thoughts are burning, evaporating away as quickly as they invade when Jean's voice pierces his ringing ears – silencing the void. Vivid amber orbs are still watching him, grazing over his skin from the tips of his reddened cheeks down to the dripping place they are connected to his feet that are buried deep within the mattress as Marco uses its leverage to lift himself and jolt down in tandem with Jean's upward thrust. His hands on Jean's thighs tighten and Marco lets his chin drop to his clavicle, flush and eyes stinging with intense emotions.

 

Jean reads him like a book, so simply – easily – and like a tender melody, lulls Marco from his naturally creeping thoughts. The blond's thumbs are stroking his hips, rubbing the plush areas and sighing blissfully. Marco can hear him mumbling as he works up repeatedly into his tightness, but can't quite make out the words through his own whimpering and guttural humming.

 

Beads of sweat drip from Marco's brow as he tilts his head back again, placing weight on his wrists and slams down hard, whine in his throat and cock leaking horribly as it jumps with each thrust. Its head is peeking over the panties, drops of white pearl coloring his pale stomach and it's then that Marco starts to hear the deep, growling voice beneath him – groaning in rhythm with Marco's downward impale. Moments later, he feels the soft brush of Jean's hand on his cheek, knuckles brushing as he drunkenly stares up at him, thumb grazing over Marco's bottom lip. He puckers his plush, swollen lips, taking the digit into his mouth and sucking it. He feels Jean's thumb in his mouth pad and press over his lathering tongue, and he pulls it in further, humming around the skin.

 

A high strung groan immediately follows, “ _Fuck...”_

 

Marco squeezes, tightening hard around Jean's thick cock deep inside, and keens when he hears it again –

 

“ _Fuckkk.”_

 

It occurs to Marco only at that moment when the finger in his mouth falls out with a slick pop that Jean has long stopped bucking up into him, shaking and spewing filthy profanities as Marco thrusts hard onto him, hot and tight and wet and the brunette realizes that it's him – only him – that is making his lover dig his heels into the bed, teeth gritting and breaths rough and gravely. Marco is leading their descent into madness, ecstasy, and Jean is enjoying every moment – using what he can to encourage the man above him.

 

Marco ignores the stinging of his hips, thighs tired from repeated strain and curls even further back, grinding and rocking heavily. He mewls, so aroused that he feels like he might explode from the overwhelming stimulation of Jean stretching his walls, and their groins slamming hard. His cock is begging to be touched, his skin is screaming for Jean's warmth – Marco just wants to be molded to him in every way he can.

 

“A-ahhh, _Jeannn_ ,” he's unbearably hot, jerking and crying as Jean's hands abruptly start to roam away from his hips. They're under the negligee, brushing and pinching his nipples, fingertips scraping the soft skin over his ribs, stroking his neglected cock. The swearing is evolving; now there are words and moans and panting and each noise that comes from Jean's mouth yanks Marco closer to orgasm. It's rare to hear his boyfriend so unraveled and so deep in heat that he's just as loud as Marco himself is.

 

“Hah – ah! Yeah, babe, _just like that,_ ” he's holding Marco's love handles again, hands digging in hard as if Marco is the last life line he has. “ _Fuckkk, you feel so amazing, babe_. _”_

 

 _Oh god,_ his filthy, velvet mouth is so sexy – Marco is reeling uncontrollably, thrusting down hard, whimpers loud like sobbing and he feels so tight – so tense that he might just peak right then and there. Jean's name is on his tongue, cascading in rampant mantras as much as his hoarse voice can articulate and he feels it barreling him over, so _close –_

 

“Jean, I'm gonna come...!”

 

“Me too,” comes the instant reply, almost choking as a rough pant passes Jean's lips. He's curling up, feet bracing against the bed and bucking up _hard_ to meet Marco's wanton bounces. Marco starts to whimper again, moans rising in pitch with each driving impalement and then Jean's talking to him again. “So close, babe, I'm so close.”

 

Marco is shaking, hands vice-like on Jean's thighs.

 

“Please, please, _please,_ ” he can't stop begging, can't stop the erratic rocking, body burning and tense – ready, ready, ready. His thighs are on fire, but he wants to come so bad.

 

“ _Ahh,_ yeah, _come for me, babe._ I've got you _, come on._ ” Jean holds him tight, taking the briefest moment to run his hands over Marco's stinging legs, giving him the the signal that he'll take them over the brink – not to hurt himself. He takes over, and the sheer force – precise hits of his cock inside Marco's tight ass, hitting his sensitive spots and forcing sobs from his lips. _“Come.”_

 

A rough cry ruptures from Marco's lips, eyes lulling as he folds back, legs squeezing tight around Jean's hips as his orgasm crashes violently upon him, cock spurting white ribbons that are almost painful for how hard he's coming. His insides clamp around Jean like a vice, practically milking the orgasm from his lover, who's cursing and panting as his own release hits him – Marco's name a drawl on his lips and Marco can feel him spasm inside – the feeling intense on his already overwhelmed nerves.

 

His skin tingles with after-charge and Marco is forced to lurch forward, hands splayed on Jean's abdomen – breathing ragged and deep, gasping for air. He takes a few moments to stabilize, then lazily lifts himself up to his violently shaking knees, letting Jean pull slowly out of him. A small hiss whispers through the blond's lips from sensitivity and quickly discards the condom in a nearby trash bin.

 

Jean reaches out, pulling his quivering lover into his lap and presses a gentle kiss to his sternum. He wraps his arms tight around Marco, hands rubbing everywhere to soothe the ache he knows the brunette feels. Marco curls into him, arms swinging around Jean's neck and his face nuzzles into his collar, breathing now calm, soft.

 

“You're so amazing, Marco,” he hears Jean murmur in his ear, voice grainy. His hands are on his thighs again, one hand playing with the garter belt that somehow managed to stay in place. Marco hums, and can only press whispers of lazy kisses against Jean's neck, arms tightening around his boyfriend as he feels his face and chest fill with warmth. He feels so good, adored.

 

“Mmm,” is all he can manage to vocalize after a good minute, eyes droopy as he practically sags in Jean's lap, comfortable despite the stickiness and sweat. He hears Jean chuckle into his collarbone, breath warm and calming as he lets the blond gently lay him down onto his back – body pliant and tired. Moments later, Marco lets out a tiny whine when Jean is plucking at the negligee, prying the straps off his shoulders.

 

“Let's get this off you and clean you up babe, come on,” Jean humorously scolds, reaching around Marco to unfasten the negligee, pressing baby light kisses to Marco's lips playfully, making the brunette giggle and smile as he struggles to lift his back. Jean quickly voids Marco of his clothing, mumbling with wiggly eyebrows that he _maybe_ wishes he could have peeled those lacy panties off him earlier.

 

“Maybe next time...” Marco murmurs, hands brushing his sweaty fringe over his forehead, blushing.

 

“Mmm, or maybe I'll let you take it off me next time,” Jean winks with a grin as he crawls off the bed.

 

Marco watches him walk away, eyes drifting very far south – staring at the flex of his boyfriend's ass and thighs as he steps into the bathroom, “Yes, please.”

 

He can hear Jean laughing even over the faucet running, and the grin on his face when he returns with a washcloth is contagious. Soon after Jean has both of them wiped down, dressed in new underwear – because he's attentive like that and can see Marco shiver as the AC rushes to life for the nth time – and crawls in bed with Marco, pulling the fluffy, previously discarded comforter over them.

 

Marco can't stop the smile from spreading on his features when Jean moves himself into the crook of his arm, cheek nuzzling his chest one, two times before getting comfortable. When Marco lifts a hand to massage his fingers through short russet blond hair, Jean presses more kisses to his pectoral, smiling into the skin and humming in approval.

 

“You are amazing, babe,” he murmurs, his own hands stroking lines across Marco's belly, soft and loving. “Love you.”

 

Declarations of love never cease to make Marco flush, and he can't help but wrap around his lover and kiss the crown of his head, “Mm, love you too.” His eyes close, chest fluttering and heart tender like red, and Marco feels very good.

 

Loved.

 

“Jean?” brown eyes suddenly pop open, lips pursed in realization.

 

“Mm?” comes the short, sleepy reply.

 

“Didn't you make dinner...?” Marco feels bad, recalling that today was a rare day that Jean cooked for them.

 

Jean lifts a lazy hand up, waving it limply about, “Meh, s'cool. Order...pizza or somethin'. Later...video games and p'za...sleep now.” The hand abruptly drops again, the lethargic blond wrapping a leg around Marco's hips, reminding him vaguely of an octopus. Jean squeezes him tight, “Sleep, beautiful...”

 

Marco laughs quietly, and squeezes Jean even tighter.

 

Yeah, absolutely loved.

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all on Tumblr and on here enjoyed this little...not so little piece. Much love for you all! Leave kudos/comments if you like, I really appreciate the feedback! Links will be added when the art I'm doing to go with this are done and up! <33


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